


Between Two Lungs

by caramelle



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Fluff, idk man what's the tag for a sort-of p&p au but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:42:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: Cassian doesn't exactly mean to, but as he's coming up from his bow, he sort of accidentally on purpose makes eye contact with the young Erso heiress.Her glance merely passes over him, and her face remains perfectly and diplomatically blank.And yet, somehow, he instantly feels like he's already managed to offend her.Or, a Pride and Prejudice AU featuring Cassian and Jyn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT FROM [Stina](http://casssians.tumblr.com):  
>  **rebelcaptain - regency/pride & prejudice au but reverse their stations (Jyn is the rich heiress and Cassian is the lower station)**
> 
> this was SUPPOSED to be a 1k fill as part of my [1k celebration on tumblr](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com/post/156462904119), but it clearly got the hell away from me so i apologise in advance.
> 
>  
> 
> (title from the Florence + the Machine song of the same name)

 

 

 

 

"If you find all balls insufferable, does that mean all balls are insufferable, or that you're the insufferable one?"

 

Cassian tugs at his cravat, already feeling stifled by the masses of people packed into the large room. "Does it matter? Either way, you and balls clearly don't complement each other."

 

"Okay, but," Bodhi continues, the words tumbling out from his mouth like he's trying to beat some invisible clock, "I wasn't specifically talking about _me,_ though?"

 

"Cassian was following your lead in making reference to the general 'you'," Kay says impassionately, hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back. "Matching your speech patterns to that of your conversational partner is a commonplace enough practice, Bodhi. You would do well to recall that as you embark on your social endeavours tonight."

 

"Advice on social interaction from _you,_ " Bodhi says incredulously, staring up at Kay. "And I mean the _specific_ 'you'. As in, _you,_ of _all_ people."

 

"Quiet," Cassian orders, everyone else falling silent and turning towards the large double doors in unison. "Our hosts have arrived."

 

He doesn't exactly _mean_ to, but as he's coming up from his bow, he sort of accidentally on purpose makes eye contact with the young Erso heiress.

 

Her glance merely passes over him, and her face remains perfectly and diplomatically blank — and yet, somehow, he instantly feels like he's already managed to offend her.

 

_Great start to the social event of the season, Andor._

 

 

 

"Just to recapitulate — you overheard Miss Erso insulting everyone's looks, dragged me from a conversation with one of her guardians, and then proceeded to publicly contradict Miss Erso in a discussion about the waltz, in front of her _other_ guardian. And then, you promptly removed yourself from the group without so much as a bow."

 

Cassian winces.

 

Kay's stony gaze lands on him. "Did I miss anything?"

 

"He also told Lady Mothma to go away," Bodhi supplies helpfully. "And then he stepped on Sir Îmwe's foot." He pauses, his forehead scrunching in thought. "I'm pretty sure that last one was an accident, though."

 

"Brilliant," Kay says, his tone completely flat.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cassian Andor has _experience_ with courtship, thank you very much.

 

He's wooed one or two women, if only a little half-heartedly. He's certainly no virgin. He's personally witnessed at least three cases of successful courtship, _firsthand._ (And several more less successful ones, of course — but according to Kay, those don't count.)

 

Even so, in all his experience with the fairer sex, he's never come across anything _quite_ like Jyn Erso.

 

It's not that she's pretty.

 

Well. It's also not that she _isn't._

 

Objectively, he's more than capable of admitting that she has an attractive… er, well— _face._ How can he _not,_ when she's got large, doe eyes like _that._ And delicate, pouty lips like _those._ And the softest, silkiest mane of dark hair, like _that._

 

But _no,_ that's not _it._

 

Over the next three months, he has precisely thirteen more encounters with her.

 

All thirteen eventuate in similar fashion: they greet each other with awkward stiltedness, they get pulled into reluctant conversation by their companions, the conversation somehow escalates into a heated argument, and one of them will fire off a completely out-of-line, barely even veiled insult — her about Cassian's considerably lower social standing, him about Jyn's self-absorbed, snobbish views and way of life — and then they immediately plunge headfirst into an icy silence, both just pretending not to glare at each other as their shell-shocked companions bumble through hasty, awkward farewells.

 

The only exceptions are when she's accompanied by her guardians.

 

Lord Malbus, although gruff in demeanour, doesn't ever seem offended on his ward's behalf. Instead, he just stands there, _frowning_ at Cassian. It's not even a _disapproving_ frown. It's more like he's perpetually stuck on a particularly tricky puzzle.

 

Sir Îmwe, on the other hand, just flat out _laughs._ Real, genuine, full-on _belly laughs._

 

It's the fucking _worst._

 

Sometimes, though, he actually finds himself enjoying their little quarrels. Jyn Erso is clearly much more well read than the majority of her upper class peers. She's also exceedingly well informed on the affairs of the day, and not just those pertaining to her social circle either. She doesn't hesitate to offer opinions on political developments, public business dealings and industrial advancements.

 

Of course, he doesn't always _agree_ with them. Nonetheless, he can't deny that they're _strong._

 

On their fourteenth encounter, he somehow ends up dancing a full waltz with her.

 

He really only asks her because he's fully expecting her to say no.

 

He has a sneaking suspicion she only says yes because of exactly the same reason.

 

He does his best to avoid her for the rest of the evening.

 

All the same, Cassian has the extremely uncomfortable sense that whatever the hell's going on with him and Jyn Erso, it's a lot more akin to courtship than anything he's ever been through with any other woman.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Whatever the case, what's happening now is _completely_ Kay's fault.

 

Because if it hadn't been for Kay's obsessive compulsion with _societal niceties,_ Cassian wouldn't have been dragged along on this _social call,_ wouldn't have gotten in _another_ peculiarly heated, subtext-laced argument with Jyn Erso, and wouldn't have felt the need to go on a long, _long_ walk away from the main house in order to cool off.

 

"'It's high time we paid a visit the Grange Estate'," he mocks under his breath as he peels off his drenched jacket, the thunderous ruckus of the ongoing rainstorm drowning him out, even to himself. "'It's only polite that we drop in for a few days or so'." He blows out a frustrated breath, giving up on wringing the rainwater out of his jacket, which is soaked right through. "Prick."

 

"Who's a prick now?"

 

Cassian jumps, whirling around to blink blankly at the unexpected sight of Jyn Erso.

 

She's clearly been caught in the same predicament as him, her hair and skin dripping just as wet, light walking dress clinging even more closely to the gentle curves of her small frame.

 

"I— sorry," he says automatically, already cursing himself. Contentious relationship or not, she's still a _lady._ Also, she's a _Lady_ — _capital_ 'L'. "My apologies, Miss Erso."

 

To his surprise, she merely shrugs. "If you're referring to your companion, Mr. Tuesso," she says, pulling her sodden hat from atop her head as she moves to lean against a large stone column, "I, for one, would fully concur. He is, indeed, a prick."

 

He stares at her, already taking an incredulous step forward before he can really think about it. "Did you just… ?"

 

Her piercing green gaze cuts sharply over to him. "What? Am I not allowed to say 'prick'?" Her chin juts towards him, deliberate and defiant. "I'm allowed to say 'prick'. You don't _own_ the word. _Prick._ "

 

It takes him a few moments to get his jaw working again.

 

"Yes," he manages, still staring wide-eyed at her. "Well done."

 

They lapse into a tentative silence, both just taking each other's rain-soaked, bedraggled appearances.

 

" _Technically,_ " Jyn says slowly, staring somewhere just past his shoulder, "I'm not _supposed_ to say 'prick'." Her eyes flick up to him cautiously, not quite meeting his. "Or any other _truly_ good words, really."

 

He blinks. "I see."

 

He's not really sure what else he can say to that.

 

She coughs, quiet and unobtrusive, pulling herself up to press her back against the column. "I'm not supposed to do a lot of things. Ask for seconds at the dinner table. Leave the estate unaccompanied." She pauses, her gaze flicking up to him again. This time, her eyes meet his. "Fall in love with someone below my station."

 

He's not sure if it's the heavy downpour beating down around them, but he suddenly feels like all the moist air has been sucked out of his lungs.

 

"Yes," he says after a long moment, not daring to so much as blink. "That would be— er, inadvisable."

 

A certain glint flashes in her eyes, indicative of a more belligerent mood, one that he's far more accustomed to with Jyn Erso than that of polite conversation. "Would you like to advise me against it?"

 

… What the _blazes_ is _happening?_

 

He opens, and closes his mouth. And then opens it again.

 

Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his waterlogged locks as he attempts to find his bearings. "I'd imagine Lord Malbus and Sir Îmwe would have more to say on the subject than I."

 

She shrugs. "To be perfectly honest, I don't think Baze and Chirrut care very much one way or the other."

 

Suddenly, it strikes Cassian how overwhelmingly _normal_ she seems like this — away from the Grange House, away from Kay and the estate servants and everyone else, her perfectly tailored dress and perfectly styled hair ruined by the rain, casually slumped back against a stone pillar, referring to her esteemed guardians by their given names and using words like 'prick'.

 

"Yes," he says slowly. Again. He shakes his head, ignoring the rising surge of embarrassment in favour of refocusing on her face. "They do seem rather… unorthodox."

 

He briefly recalls the way Sir Îmwe had used his cane to offer Bodhi an extra napkin at a dinner two weeks ago, stretching it over the table and across two other dinner guests, calm as anything.

 

A wry grimace tugs at his lips. "In that, and many other regards."

 

For some reason, Jyn seems particularly intrigued by his response. Her gaze narrows slightly, but it's without any menace — more alert than combative.

 

"Well," she says, her tone matter-of-fact, "do you think you'll be able to live with that?"

 

Thunder crashes somewhere in the near distance.

 

"Sorry," Cassian says, purely reflexive. At his sides, his hands clench into fists, loosen, and clench up again. "Uh. What? I don't— _what._ "

 

He's pretty sure that if Kay could see him now, his friend would spontaneously combust on the spot out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

 

Jyn pushes off the column, taking two small steps towards him.

 

"I'm in love with you," she says.

 

Once he recovers from the temporary deafness in his left ear, he notices her folded arms and rigid posture. They make him think that her announcement is meant to come off as exasperated.

 

Nevertheless, something in her face is uncharacteristically soft. _Vulnerable,_ even.

 

"Or, at the very least, I would estimate that I'm well on the way to _being_ in love with you. Either way, I would very much like to enter into a formal courtship with you — one that will, ideally, end in marriage." She pauses, drawing a sharp breath as she blinks up at him, strangely steady _and_ unsteady at the same time. "I… I suppose I should have been clearer about that."

 

It must take much longer than he thinks for his powers of speech to return to him, because she starts to wilt a little, fidgeting as her weight shifts from one foot to the other.

 

"It's perfectly all right, you know," she starts after another long moment, her face contorting with the unfamiliar sting of humiliation. "You don't _have_ to agree to this. I mean, if you don't fe—"

 

"No," he says quickly, stepping closer on impulse. "No, I— I do."

 

Something like relief blooms on her face. Her eyes finally lift to his, twin orbs of sage green shining bright. "You do?"

 

He smiles. He can't help it. In all his life, he never knew he could ever be _this_ happy.  

 

"Yes, Jyn," he says, a thrill rushing through him at finally, _finally_ being able to call her by her given name. He reaches out with a hand, fingers curling around hers, and then intertwining. "I do."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They both grow far too impatient throughout their nuptial celebrations.

 

Cassian's not sure which of them it is that makes the first move, but they're slipping into Lord Malbus's study hand in hand, giggling behind their hands like they're children sneaking about in the back of the schoolhouse.

 

"This is all your fault," Jyn informs him between kisses, letting him press her back into the large writing desk. "You're the one who wanted a proper reception and everything."

 

" _You're_ the one who had to invite every last fourth cousin and great aunt twice removed," he reminds her, punctuating his retort with a playful nip at her clavicle.

 

"I can't help it if I want to parade my new husband about in front of my snooty peers," Jyn snickers, one hand curling into his hair. "I want to see them all turn green with envy."

 

He hides his smile in her neck, turning to plant a kiss on her flushed skin before moving up to her ear. "The only one _I_ want to see is you, now and always."

 

She sighs, goosebumps fluttering across her skin. "Kay won't be very happy to hear that."

 

"By the way," Cassian says, pulling back abruptly, "he's probably going to approach you sometime later with the intention of wrangling his way onto the honeymoon. Do _not,_ under any circumstances, allow him to talk you into it."

 

She raises a disbelieving brow. " _Me?_ Speak for _yourself._ "

 

His jaw drops. "Mrs. _Andor,_ " he says with mock chiding, a burst of warmth exploding joyfully in his chest at hearing the address pronounced out loud. "Are you implying that of the two of us, I have the weaker resolve?"

 

She shrugs, slinging her arms loosely around his neck as she flashes a flippant grin at him. "I managed to talk you into marrying me, didn't I?"

 

He dives in for another hard kiss, already smiling against her lips before he can even pull back.

 

"Indeed you did, my love," he says, basking in the radiant glow emanating from her lovely face. "Indeed you did."

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments always welcome and very much appreciated!
> 
> cash me ~~out~~ inside [on tumblr](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com)


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